


The Heart of the Mountain

by Caiti (Caitriona_3)



Series: A Hobbit's Tale [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anthropomorphic, Gen, writerverse challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 11:30:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4135761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitriona_3/pseuds/Caiti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a witness to the arrival of Bilbo and the Dwarves to the Lonely Mountain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Heart of the Mountain

**Author's Note:**

> Done for a writersverse challenge. I’m not sure how well it fits the challenge, but I liked how it came out. Challenge: Choose a secondary character and write from their perspective.

I can feel myself coming alive again.

My heart brightens with each new arrival. Each one bringing a new talent to share with the community, thus enriching the whole. Excitement sings through my veins as the people clear out the debris and cobwebs. New work starts in the depths and repairs are made to the old. My joy grows with theirs – bubbling under the surface as I feel their awe as they walk within my gates once more…or for the first time. How does one measure such rapture? It cannot be measured. The poison of the past leaches away before the determination of the present and the hope of the future.

And yet, of all those who return, only fourteen names will forever echo in my halls.

Nine of them…I knew them. I knew them as soon as they stepped into my realm. I felt their footsteps as they climbed the slopes. Blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh…children returning after a long and wearisome journey – I could all but taste their presence That heavy trod, so common to the people of rock and stone, rang within me…and I feared. I feared the loathsome beast that yet lived, curled in his horde of cursed gold. Would he destroy this brave party that dared to return to these accursed grounds? 

One of the Line – he walked with them, leading them. He felt like bright gold shimmering in my heart. For him did I fear most, for I could feel the gold-sickness already shadowed him. This one I remembered. He worried – I could feel that. His mind was pulled – between the danger in front and worry for what is behind. 

I wondered…had they left others of my people? Within the halls of the Moon-born? Or the city of the Sun-born? I could not tell, but the One of the Line divided his attention, even with the beast before him. Why would they leave them behind? Something was wrong.

The second, another I knew from before, possessed a gentle touch, a calm breeze of wisdom meant to temper the fires of the Line. He too held the heritage of the Line, but in lesser amounts. Too bad his wisdom could not hold back the passions set off by the tainted metal of the beast’s horde. 

A warrior moved by their side – akin to the wise one – and he held diamond-sharp focus. Protecting the Line meant all – even to the point of ignoring his own worries and fears. Yes, yes, he too stands out in my memory. A good friend to the One of the Line and a trusted shield for all of the blood. Unfortunate that such shielding does no good against an enemy of the mind, not the body.

Memory becomes sharp and clear as crystal with the next one of the people. He not only bore the blood of my people, but he Spoke with me. He called for me as he lay his hand against the walls. I could not answer – not while I feared awakening the beast, but I knew the Speaker could feel my presence.

Then came one I did not know – it would be hard to forget one of such size. Though I knew him not, he bore the blood of mine and shared some of the ability as the Speaker though he could not Speak. Could he Hear me? He stood by the Speaker and shook his head each time the Speaker tried to call me. I remember feeling despair when I could not Speak to them - I always preferred the simpler folk who shared a love of life with me.

Both of them looked ahead and behind as well. How many of my people were left behind? Where are all of the souls who once breathed life in this place? This place that is now rank with death.

Three came in together, one I recognized and two I did not, though they shared blood with the first. Some of the heritage of the Line runs in their veins, diluted and distant. Do they recognize it? The eldest, the one I remembered, he fussed over the youngest…and anyone who stayed still long enough to catch his eye. My heart flared for a moment before I could control it – how good to see such familial love once more! The middle brother avoided the fussing in some way, but still managed to remain near to his family, watching the shadows it seemed. I know not what he sought for the beast allowed no other to live, but his protective stance warmed me as much as the elder’s fussing. And then the youngest, eyes wide in awe and surprise…how he stared at everything and everyone. He seemed to take in every detail. Later as I noted his hands move over a parchment, I realized he did indeed take it all in – all to record such a monumental moment.

Last came another of the near-Line. Though he did not share the wisdom or the instincts of the other near-Line members, his blood linked closer to theirs than to the One of the Line. Despite his passion for what lay ahead, he too seemed distracted, his attention divided between ahead and behind.

There was another with them. He is not a child of stone, not one of my blood. Why did he journey with them? Is he a friend? An ally? I could feel his roots buried deep within the earth of field and orchard, twined with vine. Ah…one of the cousins of my people then, a child of Yavanna as they are children of Mahal. How did they find such a one willing to journey so far from his home?

He was the first to venture into the depths, the first to face the dragon – Smaug.

Bravery of such caliber was unexpected in such a one as he – and yet… He faced the beast. He called the Line to remember his duty. His courage and his honor…they stole my heart. I shall never forget his name. His efforts to save my people put his own life at risk, at risk from the very people he would save! In the end, when the fierce battle came to an end, he forgave my people with an open heart. 

Bilbo Baggins shall never be forgotten within my halls.

His name shall be held and protected by stone, and long after my people have returned to stone to await the breaking and remaking of the world, I myself shall keep the name of Bilbo Baggins safe within my heart.

For I am Erebor – and I do not forget.


End file.
